Lady Knights of the Realm- Book : The Page Years
by Topaz B. Rainheart
Summary: Mara and Jaslyn, Cyra, and Fazia face challenges in their first four years of knights training, and face bumps along the road and problems to overcome, all the while working along to the test that decides if they are good enough to move on as squires, despite the doubters and trouble-makers. I don't have a cover yet, so if anyone minds making one, I'll give you like a cameo thing!
1. Mara of Trebond

**Maramale of Trebond**

Maramale sat in the chair in her da's study, watching her sister pace impatiently. After Jaslyn's announcement that she and Mara wished to train as lady knights, as their fellow male relatives had done so, though their brother had not, their parents had locked themselves in their chambers, after telling the two girls to wait there. It was going on an hour now, and Mara still had yet to hear a reply. She knew her da would know if she shifted, and snuck in to eavesdrop, so she had to make do with this. Jaslyn had not been convinced yet, and got caught not several minutes ago for the fourth time trying to listen in with her gift. Mara did like her wild magic, but sometimes she was envious of Jaslyn, who could do many things with her all-purpose gift.

Mara broke from her thoughts as the door creaked open, and their mother entered. Standing, she brushed a dark brown curl out of her eyes, and watched her mother enter. Mara had gotten impatient with the vague answers her mother always gave when asked if Mara could cut her hair boy short, like her brother, and had done the deed some weeks ago. Her mother was vexed with having to trim Mara's then badly cut hair neater, but by the end of the tedious task, Mara had what she desired, earlobe length hair, perfect for fighting.

Elenna of Trebond was truly a beauty. Like her daughters, she had pale skin, and a slim figure. Like Jaslyn, she had hazel eyes, and her hair was a dark red, lightened here and there with her caramel blond tips and highlights. However, if the girls wished to be knights, they could not have had a worse mother for the task of allowing this. Elenna of Trebond was a strict woman, loud in her opinions that other nobles could send their daughters to such a rough life, but not her. This was rather odd, since her own mother had been a former thief, and her father had served the first lady knight in over a hundred years before he came to Trebond to start his own family and run the lands, not to mention their da's mother, who was a wild mage, and participated in the queens riders, spying, scouting, fighting, and such, before being burdened with a family of her own, and the lady knights who popped in sometimes. No, Elenna wouldn't have it. This she made clear many times. And Rikash loved his wife so, the girls feared he would sway to her notions.

Jaslyn and Mara hurriedly curtsied to their mother. _I hate dresses, _Mara thought, annoyed with the ankle length, dark green wool gown, with the heavy embroidery on the sleeves and hem. _When I'm a knight, I'll never wear a dress. Never._ She was distracted from her thoughts when her sister elbowed her, and she looked up to see her da come in, looking decidedly happy. She wondered what it was about. Her mother was first to speak.

"Jaslyn, Maramale. Regarding your request..." Mara was surprised to see her mother, usually so respectful, look rather annoyed with them. The woman continued. "Regarding it... well, both of you are aware of the feelings I have towards you girls training to be _knights_, rather than lovely, valuable noble ladies. I take this opportunity to discourage you. It is not fun. You will train all day. All night. In your sleep. If you're sick. There are no breaks, no slacking. This life is not for wom-" Rikash smiled gently at the girls, then cleared his throat, and their mother stopped abruptly, blushed, then sighed and continued. "Despite my arguments, however, your father feels... he feels you will do well in an environment such as this. So... you may go." Mara and Jaslyn squealed, and raced to hug their mother, then their da.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" they both cried, excited.

"You should go pack," Rikash told them, "You, your brother, and I set off in the morning for Corus." The girls nodded eagerly and left. Mara went to her rooms, and began packing, a grin on her face.

_I'm going to be a lady knight!_

* * *

AN: So, this is the first chapter of my story! Its short... well, the first will be. First we're going through how all the girls get to Corus!

Now, keep in mind, this is a confusing story. I started it out thinking I could write a story about a lady knight in training. I've always wanted to, and after re-reading Granddaughter of the Lioness (great story, though I could kill the author for abandoning the sequel like that- Noo! Keep writing, Skyflyte12!), I decided to try my hand at it! Slowly, it evolved from just one girl, to four, though. We're gonna follow four very different girls, from three different backgrounds, including other kingdoms! However, this really does revolve around Mara. It might evolve into a foursome, but my original intents are to keep to just Mara, for the most part, inserting others when I feel like it. Otherwise, I have to decide who gets this chapters point of view, and the next, and the next... its easier this way. Feel free to lemme know what you think in the reviews! Love it, hate it, wanna kill me for writing so badly... it's all good! Just please, tell me something to improve on, or I'll kinda dismiss it as idle prattle. And no, "Please write more!" is not improvement. I can write more with or without your nagging, though I do find it endearing!

As a last message to my dear readers, I shall release three of my character descriptions! My chapter doesn't do the girls justice. So without further ado, the official descriptions of the triplets!

Characters:

Maramale (_Mara-mel_) of Trebond, granddaughter of Corum Smythesson and Rispah Cooper on her mother's side, and Numair Salmalín and Daine Sarrasri on her da's. Her mother is Elenna of Trebond, and her da is Rikash Salmalín. She inherited her grandda's height, and she has a small, neat figure. Her skin is pale, her eyes are dark, and her hair is curly, and dark brown, with caramel highlights. She is triplets with her brother and sister, and out of the three of them, she is the only one with wild magic. Hers is very powerful, inherited from both her da and her grandmother.

Jasson (_Ja-son (but the 'a' is pronounced like the 'a' in apple)_) of Trebond, grandson of Corum Smythesson and Rispah Cooper on his mother's side, and Numair Salmalín and Daine Sarrasri on his da's. His mother is Elenna of Trebond, and his da is Rikash Salmalín. He is also tall, though the shortest of the three, and has pale blue eyes and black hair. He has a weak healing gift, not enough to really count, but he is very intelligent, which makes up for it, and is living in the palace, taking lessons from the healers to be- you guessed it- a healer, for the wars. He is very protective over his siblings.

Jaslyn (_Jas-lin_) of Trebond, granddaughter of Corum Smythesson and Rispah on her mother's side, and Numair Salmalín and Daine Sarrasri on her da's. Her mother is Elenna of Trebond, and her da is Rikash Salmalín. She has the gift, like her da, and strong. She also inherited her grandda's height, and she is the middle child in height and age of birth with her triplets. She is a little more feminine than her sister, with a wider bust and hips, and a small, heart-shaped face. She looks rather delicate, with her pale skin, hazel eyes with long lashes, full lips, and honey-blond hair, wavy, and pretty. However, she has an explosive temper, and is not to be trifled with.


	2. Cyra Crow, or Cyra of Pirate's Swoop

**Cyra Crow**

****Cyra fought back tears as she looked at the large, and now that she was facing it, intimidating looking ship that would take her from her home, to Tortall. She flinched, then looked up at her da, smiling at his comforting face. He looked at her. Nawat had, after many years, learned most human customs well, but times like this showed her just how confused her father could be.

"Cyra, you are getting older. All crows must learn how to fly, and leave the nest one day." She sniffled.

"Da, I'm not a crow." He looked at her solemnly.

"You are a crow," he replied stubbornly, then, showing some of his fatherly side, said sternly, "I expect you to call home at least once a week, alright? You've got your darking, I expect you to use it." He hugged her, and Cyra hugged him back.

"I'll miss you, Da," she murmured. It had taken much persuasion to get Aly to send her to Tortall, but Cyra was now wondering if it was worth it. Her da released her, and she turned around, squaring her shoulders, then marched onto the boat, refusing to look back. _I won't cry, I won't cry, I won't cry._

__She looked back once she reached the deck, and waved to her brother and sister, who had come with their da to see her off. Then she noticed that the men had forgotten one of her trunks, and by the look of it, the one with her training materials in it. Gesturing to it frantically, she yelled down, "Toss it up!"

One of the men nearby, hauling a few crates of goods on board, put them down, and looked at the ten year old incredulously. That trunk had weighed plenty, surely such a youngster couldn't hope to catch it safely, let alone lift it. Two men had left it there, because they had been assigned to bring her stuff on, and the trunk was too heavy for them to carry. His eyes bugged out when the man nodded, and lifted it with ease, tossing it to her. Surely she wouldn't...

Cyra caught it with the ease of one who did this all the time. The men all stared at her as she set the trunk down on the deck like it was nothing, then sat on it, and waved, smiling, to her family, tucking her skirt neatly. She laughed when she noticed their expressions, and waved them off. It took them a while to get the boxs on because of that, but soon, the boat set off. Cyra watched the isles shrink, until finally, she could no longer see her old home.

_Goodbye, _she thought sadly, _For a long time. _

* * *

Cyra woke up to the boat shuddering to a slow halt. Springing up, she washed up, then dressed in light brown breechs, and a spring green tunic with silver trim. Grabbing her trunk, she trotted up the stairs, ignoring the looks from the men, then watched them set down the ramp, before she hurried down, placing her trunk where her other belongings would go. She had a man carry the rest down for her, reclining on her trunks, and soon enough, she heard her grandmothers voice.

"Cyra? That can't be Cyra, shes too big. Though she does have my height... or lack of it." There was a soft chuckle, and Cyra sat up, smiling, her own hazel eyes meeting the famous violet eyes of her grandmother. Alanna the lioness. Mithros, she was good.

"Grandmother!" Cyra jumped up, and hugged the older woman. Alanna was getting in on her years, close to the age of retiring, but she still stubbornly clung to the role of active knight. Cyra knew if Alanna had the option, she would stay active until she died, but sadly, Grandda would never allow her. Cyra found this amusing.

Alanna hugged her back, then stepped back.

"So, you want to train as a knight," she murmured, approvel plain in her face. "Well, at least you won't be the only girl. Maramale (Alanna wrinkled her nose at the name), and Jaslyn of Trebond will be there, as well as the daughter of the rulers of Carthak. Shes getting an exception since shes decided she prefers Tortall, though I can't blame her. Too much slavery there." Alanna smiled wryly at Cyra, who blushed. She had heard the tale of her mother helping to stop the mistreatment of the raka at home so many times... Cyra herself was familar with slavery, and had fought many men because she wanted them to stop. Unfortunately, it was far too easy for Cyra's mother to send spies to collect the seven year old before she sent too many men to the healers, including herself. Cyra pouted at the thought, then grinned up at her grandmother.

"Maybe... but at least I still have a bigger nose then you!" She reached up and tweaked her grandmothers nose, giggling, and Alanna smirked.

"Lets get you to the palace, young page. You have a long life ahead of you." Cyra hefted up her trunks, getting them in the carriage they were riding to the palace in, then sat in it with her grandmother, thinking of the life she would lead at the palace.

_I'm finally going to learn the way of a knight!_

* * *

__AN: And again, I end it with that sentence! Heehee. I love similarities. Hopefully I'll have two more chapters up soon. Don't worry, theres no real adventure just yet, promise. First they have to get there!

As always, please R&R!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of this. It only just occured to me I might need a disclaimer... Well, I own my girls and guys. But not Alanna. *pouts* And shes so pretty, too.

As I feel like it, here is Cyra's description!

Cyra (_Ky-ra_) Crow, granddaughter of unnamed crows on her da's side, and Alanna of Pirates Swoop and Olau and George Cooper, of Pirates Swoop on her mothers. Her mother is Alianne of Pirates Swoop, and her da is Nawat Crow. She has five older siblings, two of which are her triplets, older by almost half an hour with her sister, and five minutes with her brother- she was by far the fastest birth. She doesn't have her mothers sight, but her fathers crow abilities, including being able to shift into a crow, talk to other animals in the animals way of speech, and fast enough to catch arrows. However, she inherited her mothers charm and quick wits, and her mother taught her a fair lot of tricks and tips. Cyra is a short girl, the shortest of their group, and has a nice figure, but her looks are rather odd. She has dark skin, though lighter then a raka's complexion, like her da, and seems to have a feather pattern under it. Her eyes are long lashed, and she has a nice, intimidating nose, which she often teases her grandmother about, (who complains of her own small one), long, and a bit thick around the bridge, and the tip slightly turned up. She has a narrow face, and wide, full, feminine lips. Her hair is the strangest- its a ruddy red-gold, with black streaks, and straight. However, shes considered pretty despite her oddity's, and is considered a lovely young lady.

Does anyone else find Mara's full name weird? Please put in your review whether you think I should change it or not!


	3. Fazia Iliniat, or Fazia of Conté

**Fazia Iliniat **

Fazia sat on the cold stone wall, dressed for travel in a warm woolen tunic and breeches, the top in a flattering dark plum color, with lots of gold embroidery, and the breeches a warm brown. Her hair was pinned back with gold hairpins, jeweled, and she wore some jewelry, little gold studs in her ears and nose, gold wristbands, and a golden chain with a locket on it, spelled so she could communicate with her mother through it. Less than most in her land dressed, but then again, she hated wearing so much jewelry. She and her mother always wore less.

The girl was sitting on the wall, her horse, a large white and grey dappled stallion named Storm, behind her, saddled and ready for the somewhat short ride, and her packs were by her side. They would be riding to the boat, which was an hour or two away, then she would get on the boat, and leave for Tortall. She had decided very early on that Carthak was not her home. She hated all the slavery still going on. She was nice, and stuff, but that didn't make up for how other nobles treated them. She knew the situation was hopeless, so she intended to go to her mother's home lands, and stay there, training to be a knight. They were fair, and noble. From an early age, this had been Fazia's goal as well. She would be a lady knight.

Fazia looked up as the door opened, and smiled brightly at her older brother, Binur. He was firmly fixed to their home, and didn't understand why his little sister was so against it, but had been supportive of her ever since she brought it up. She was glad he would be escorting her. Mother or Father would have lectured her the entire way, then burst into tears and/or refused to let her leave, having changed their minds. Binur would do no such thing.

"Today's the day," the girl spoke, her face and voice expressionless. Then she grinned, and jumped up, hugging her older brother as he tugged her nose playfully.

"Don't be so serious, little sister," he scolded, "I thought you'd been replaced with a statue. Come on, we're leaving. Get your things..." His voice trailed off as he took in his sisters belongings, and he smirked. "Hags bones, Fazia! Over-excited much?" She giggled, swinging onto her stallion, and leaving her brother to burden the stubborn pack mule with her things. Once he tied the annoying horse to his gelding's saddle, they were off. As soon as they left the city limits, Fazia nudged her horse to go faster, and quickly unfastened her hair, tucking the pins into a pouch she always wore when riding. When she galloped as fast as she did, her hairpins often went missing. Then she nudged Storm a second time, and he sped off, while she whooped with delight. Rolling his eyes, her brother followed at a leisurely pace.

They reached the boat sooner than they would have liked. While servants carried Fazia's stuff on board, both siblings dismounted, and came together for a last farewell. Binur had tears in his eyes.

"Don't get in too much trouble, alright?" he asked her softly, "For me." She looked up, and smiled at him. Despite the ten-year difference, he having just recently turning twenty, while she was not quite eleven, the siblings were close, and this would be their last time seeing each other for... far too long.

"I promise I'll try my best not to," she told him honestly. There was a yell for her to get on board before they left without her and her gods-cursed beast of a horse, and Fazia smirked. Storm could be a handful when he wanted, and many had expressed their wishs for her to geld him. Fazia refused, wanting him to keep that lovely fiery spirit of his. "Bye." She hugged him one last time, then raced on board. Through cajoling and teasing comments, she got her horse into his stall, and settled, then ran up as the ship shuddered to a start, waving goodbye to the slowly shrinking speck that was her brother. She watched her old home until it faded. Then, a bout of homesickness overcame her, and Fazia rushed to her rooms, where she cried a little. Once she calmed down, she lay back on her bed, with a small sigh, and a smile.

_I swear to Mithros and the Graveyard Hag, I will be the __best__ knight __**ever**__._

* * *

AN: Well? Like it? Hate it? Hehe, of course you love it, or you wouldn't be reading this far!

Three chapters in one night... well, I'm tired. Woo hoo! Go sleepdrunk! At least, that's what my friends call it... Hehe... sorry, sleep, I like my stories better. Besides, its break. So I should get more done.

Adios! Oh, wait... here... forgot... Fazia's description...

Fazia (_Fa-zi-a)_ Iliniat & of Conté, granddaughter of Fazia Tasikh and unnamed prince on her father's side, and Jonathan of Conté and Thayet of Conté on her mother's side. Her mother is Kalasin of Conté and her father is Kaddar Iliniat, emperor of Carthak. Like her female relatives, shes delicate looking, with delicate features, a neat figure, and short height. She has dark skin, like her father, but takes after her mother with her dark blue eyes, though the shade and the calculating look always there certainly didn't come from her, and her hair is long, black, and has a few nice curls that sets it up nicely. She is in Tortall by leave of her parents to train as a knight there, despite hailing from Carthak.


	4. Jaslyn of Trebond(Meeting the Girls 1)

AN:

Firstly, a message to my dear NUMBER ONE reviewer (Yes, a review! For moi!), _**Rose of the Dawn**_! (I'm excited)

Ahem.

Yeah. I don't like Mara's full name that much either. I wrote it at three am in the morning half asleep. However, I will for the most part call her Mara! So you don't need to read that dreadful name all the time!

Also. The descriptions? Yeah, they're weird. And confusing. I already knew who Mara and Jaslyn's parents and grandparents would be, but I figured I should create a document with little bios for all of them, so I could make sure I made no mistakes. I don't like mistakes. Grr. They're more for my benefit, but then I decided you might like them, so you know how to pronounce half the names, their lineage, and what they look like. Just a little bio, that's all! I find them a little confusing, too, but they help me stay in character. But thank you for the response!

Note: This chapter is the first in Jaslyns point of view, but because she and Mara lived together, I combined their traveling, for the most part. However, you see Jaslyn's part below. This chapter is the first part getting them all together. It's no fun if they never meet each other!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Tamora Pierce. I do, however, own TP! Thats toilet paper, for you silly people. So review! Or I'll tee-pee your houses! Mwahahaha!

Oh, and I do not own this quote I stole from someone else, who in return stole it from TP! (The author, not the toilet paper)

"You're here, Alan of Trebond, to learn what it is to be a knight and a noble of Tortall. It's not easy. You must learn to defend the weak, to obey your overlord, to champion the cause of right. Someday you may even be able to tell what right is."

"Until you are fourteen, you will be a page," the Duke went on. "You will wait on table at the evening meal. You will run errands for any lord or lady who asks you. Half your day will be spent learning fighting arts. The other half you will spend with books, in the hope that we can teach you how to think.

_"If _your masters think you are ready, you will be made squire when you are fourteen. Perhaps a knight will choose you as his body squire. If so, you'll tend your master's belongings, run his errands, protect his interests. Your other lessons will continue—they'll be harder, of course.

"When you are eighteen, you'll undergo the Ordeal of Knighthood. If you survive, you will be a Knight of Tortall. Not everyone survives." He held up his left hand, revealing a missing finger. "I lost this in the Chamber of the Ordeal." He sighed."

I simply rewrote it. Now, onto the story!

* * *

**Jaslyn of Trebond**

"Close your mouth, sister dear, you look ridiculous." This light tease came from the dark brown-haired youth on Jaslyns right. Despite the short-cropped curls, and sturdy woolen breeches and tunic, both in a dark brown and pine green shade, Mara was a girl. Jaslyn gave her sister the stinkeye, then nudged Kreos, her dark grey mare to a trot, in a vain attempt to get away from her sister.

"Hey, Mara, race you!" called a light male's voice behind Jaslyn. There was Jasson. Before Jaslyn could move out-of-the-way, the sound of two horses whinnying agreement came, and her siblings split up, racing around Jaslyn, then racing down the path, their horses hooves' thundering. Jaslyn sighed, and rode to catch up to her Da. He gave her a worried look.

"You alright, Jaslyn?" he asked her quietly, "I know Mara's been dying to get there since before we started, but you're my little girl. Are you sure you don't want to just go to the convent inst-"

"No!" Jaslyn snapped at him, angry he would even suggest it. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at her Da, and Rikash sighed, looking at her.

Jaslyn was no longer that little blond girl who raced around playing knight with her sister, Rikash thought ruefully, she'd grown up into a fine young lady. In a few years, she would be one of the prettiest ladies on court. But his little girl wanted to train as a knight. Rikash hated the idea of her getting hurt, but he knew he couldn't protect her forever. Look at Alanna and her daughter. She had suppressed her daughter from her wishes, and in return, her daughter ended up the spymaster of another kingdom. The two rarely saw each other in person now, both busy with their own kingdoms to help.

"Sorry, Jaslyn," he said, smiling sadly at her. "Just be careful, alright? I know they have a new training master, and ever since Lady Keladry proved that girls can be knights, the king hasn't let him run any probation periods. But you'll still have trouble."

"I'll be careful, Da," she promised.

Soon, they arrived in Corus. Jaslyn now had the opportunity to laugh at her sister, as Mara gawked at everything. Jaslyn had been with her mother to court before, so she was used to this. Jaslyn simply tucked her purse a little tighter to her pale lilac dress, with a gold belt. Jaslyn had pulled her long blond hair back in a braid, then pinned it up, so no one could tug on it. She had a small dagger in one sleeve. She was ready.

Jaslyn watched her sister punch a thief reaching casually where he expected a purse to be, and laughed at the thief's surprised look. She frowned when he grinned, though, and inched closer to her Da. However, the thief didn't say anything, simply meandered away. Jaslyn sighed in relief, and the four continued on their way to the palace.

"You should get faster," Mara said suddenly, some time later. Jaslyn jerked awake, and looked at her sister.

"Wha?" she mumbled. Mara giggled.

"Kreos is bored. She wants to run." Jaslyn scowled at her, and used her light yellow Gift to make a fake snake wriggle across the road to try to scare Mara's horse. She smirked, and turned around, to watch it. Sky just gave the girl a "you're kidding" look, and carefully stepped around the glowing "snake". Mara laughed at her old pony. "Sky thinks you're... oh, wait, I can't use that word. Bad Sky!" She was giggling. Jaslyn scowled, and turned around again.

They soon reached the palace. Their father helped a few servants get the girls things together. Then he went over to Jaslyn and Mara.

"Girls, I'll see you at Midwinter. I'm helping your brother get settled in, but then I'm leaving. Be good. Stay alive. Do what the teachers tell you. Don't get into fights." He hugged them, and Jaslyn tried not to cry. He wasn't that far away. Still, this place was so different... she was scared. She would never admit it, though. She would be the best knight ever! Still, as she watched her brother and father walk away, she couldn't help feeling a pang of loneliness. All this was forgotten, however, when she heard an woman's voice.

"Maramale and Jaslyn, please come with me." She saw her aunt Rose coming towards them, and with a cry of delight, Mara hugged her.

"Aunt Rose!" Jaslyn cried, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Aunt Rose just laughed mysteriously.

"Helping his Lord of Haryse, of course." Rose wrinkled her nose. When Rose was very young, she had decided she wished to be a Shang, and her parents had not argued. She had been one of the first noble daughters to do so. She was the Shang Bear, and while Jaslyn had only met the formidable warrior a few times, Rose had promised to be there when she trained to be a knight. She would be teaching this year with another Shang warrior. Jaslyn couldn't wait to meet her.

Rose led them to the training master's office.

"Why are we going here?" Mara asked bluntly, and Jaslyn sighed. Her sister could be so naïve sometimes.

"You have to talk to Lord Glaisdan of Haryse first. He's the training master." The way their aunt sneered the name, made Jaslyn worried.

"Will he not like us?" Rose huffed.

"He's another one of the conservatives. Thinks women should be noble ladies. He's always getting mad at me because I speak to him like a real person. I can't wait until you girls are knights. Then I can leaved this damned palace and go adventuring again." She sighed, then as the door opened, admitting them in, she plastered a smile on her face.

"Maramale and Jaslyn of Trebond," a dry voice called. The man sitting at the desk seemed surprised when he saw two young girls, and the Shang Bear, standing already. The blond girl curtsied, and the other girl attempted something like a bow, and Lord Glaisdan sighed. No doubt they would be home in a week. He grit his teeth when the Shang Bear simply flopped on the seat casually, giving him a mocking half-bow. _Impertinent, simpering, woman..._ he thought, but kept this to himself.

"You two are here, to learn what it is to be a knight and a noble of Tortall. It's not easy. You must learn to defend the weak, to obey your overlord, to champion the cause of right. Someday you may even be able to tell what right is.

"Until you are fourteen, you will be a page," the Duke went on, hating every word. He would have liked nothing more than to send these young girls home.. "You will wait on table at the evening meal. You will run errands for any lord or lady who asks you. Half your day will be spent learning fighting arts. The other half you will spend with books, in the hope that we can teach you how to think.

_"If _your masters think you are ready, you will be made squire when you are fourteen. Perhaps a knight will choose you as their body squire." _Not likely, _he thought crossly, _Who would choose a weak girl?_. "If so, you'll tend your master's belongings, run their errands, protect their interests. Your other lessons will continue—they'll be harder, of course." _You'll be home before that happens._

"When you are eighteen, you'll undergo the Ordeal of Knighthood. If you survive, you will be a Knight of Tortall. Not everyone survives." He raised his eyebrows at them. "Are you ready to sacrifice everything? A home, your looks, a marriage, a family. Meaning no offense, my lady, but girls do not belong in battle. They are weak-willed, not as strong in the upper body... they will get any unfortunate warrior sent out with them killed." Jaslyn glared at him.

"These girls have already been admitted." Rose's voice was cold. "Just tell them, _my lord._" She said this as if he was a leech she was scraping off her foot. He sighed.

"You will do your duty like any page," he told them. "I hate making exceptions, even for you, but I must. Instead of bathing with the others, you have permission to bathe in the women's bathhouse's. If you are in any boys room, the door must be open. The same goes for if there is a boy in your room. You know the rest of the rules, I presume? If you get in fights, you will get in trouble." Jaslyn was smoldering at this point, but she shook her head with Mara. "Dinner is in half an hour. You will both begin serving in a week, Jaslyn, you serve me. Maramale shall serve the two Shang instructors. Dismissed." The three left.

"I hate him!" Jaslyn yelled, as soon as they got far enough away. "That self-centered, conceited, stupid man!"

"Hush!" Rose put a finger to her lips, and Jaslyn grew quiet, her face red. "I'll show you girls to your rooms, and I'll see you tomorrow. Alright?"

They nodded, with a frown on Mara's lips. Rose left, and they followed.

Jaslyn didn't like her room. It was boring, a white washed square of a room. The first thing she did when she came in was open the shutters. Now at least there was some air circulating. She decided to keep the upper shutters open all the time, for fresh air. She put her cloths away, then placed her pictures about the room, with her favorite tapestry above her bed, which was an image of her grandmother. After Rispah Cooper married, she certainly didn't take up her sewing like a lady. No, she joined the queens ladies for a time. This was a woven image that one of the other women had made Rispah as a gift after they went after a group of centaurs who had stolen children from the nearby villages and planned to sell them. Rispah was kneeling, with her blade in the monsters throat, and it was clear both woman and centaur had fought a mighty battle. The border had a dagger-and-rose vine border. Jaslyn thought it was beautiful. Her grandmother looked so brave, and noble.

Once Jaslyn changed into the pages uniform, she loosened her hair from its confines, brushed it out, then braided it down again. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to admit, she did look nice. Maybe this wouldn't be so scary. With that thought in mind, she stepped out of her door, and looked about. Other pages were stepping out as well, and seemed to be looking at her. She started to blush. Their stares were scary. She wished her sister would hurry up and get out there.

Scarcely had this thought left her, then someone fell onto her, and Jaslyn fell to the ground, startled. Turning around slightly, she shoved the other page off her, then stood up, brushing herself off. The other page helped her, then faced her, and Jaslyn's eyes grew wide at the sight of the girl.

"Sorry," the girl said, with a Carthaki accent clear in her voice, and a bit of a commanding tone set inside it as well, like she expected people to listen to her.

"Hey, are you Jaslyn?" A voice sounded behind her, again, and Jaslyn jumped, startled. She turned around, and saw another girl, also confusing looking. Jaslyn, being Jaslyn, did what she always did in times of crisis.

"MARA!" she yelled.

* * *

And, we end with a cliffy! (To self: Smooth, Topaz. Like cream cheese, smooth. Very cool.)

Heehee. I torture. Oh, I'm so mean. Yes I am! I am!

Second part will be up soon! I basically post, then go right back to writing, so no worries! tomorrow's Christmas, though... :( Oh well. I should be able to fit in at least one more chapter tonight.

Au revoir!


	5. Meeting the Girls 2

AN: Oooh, the suspense. Don't you just hate the suspense? It took me forever to figure out that even though Alanna had seen Duke Gareth, who was the prime minister, he actually served as the training master as well, which was why they weren't supposed to see Duke Gareth ||, they had to see the training master. Thank you, Lord Wyldon!

Well, enough stalling! *throws chocolate over shoulder for luck*

Onto the story!

DISCLAIMER: I don't look like Tamora Pierce, do I? *preens self* Also, I don't own this quote:

"Don't think you'll have an easy time this year. You will work hard. You'll work when you're tired, when you're ill, and when you think you can't possibly work anymore. You have one more day to laze. Your sponsor will show you around the palace and collect those things which the crown supplies to you. The day after that, we begin."

I'm too lazy to think of something else.

* * *

_Previously on The Page Years..._

_"Sorry," the girl said, with a Carthaki accent clear in her voice, and a bit of a commanding tone set inside it as well, like she expected people to listen to her._

_"Hey, are you Jaslyn?" A voice sounded behind her, again, and Jaslyn jumped, startled. She turned around, and saw another girl, also confusing looking. Jaslyn, being Jaslyn, did what she always did in times of crisis._

_"MARA!" she yelled._

* * *

**Mara**

Mara stood, looking around her room with a frown. From an early age, she had been impressed by the lady Knight Keladry's face, showing no emotion whatsoever. Being of an impressionable age, Mara had decided she wanted to look like that, too. By now, she had perfected the look. She had always been the patient one of the family.

Once she got her room set up, the quilt her sister had sewed her, with their mothers help, on the bed, and the scented candles scattered around the room, she had dressed in her new pages uniform, brushed her hair a bit with her fingers, then stepped out. She noticed a girl opposite the hall from her, also stepping out, and smiled at her. The girl was a bit odd-looking, what with her red and black hair, and almost feathery skin, but she was pretty, in her uniform. She hadn't done anything with her shoulder length hair, though, and Mara decided to offer hair tips. Unfortunately, she knew plenty of those. But she didn't want the other new girl to have issues with boys pulling it. Walking over, she smiled at the girl. "Hi, my names Mara." The girl blinked, then grinned at her, and stuck out one hand.

"Nice! I heard you and your sister are from Trebond, is that true?" Mara shook her hand, a little confused. "Thats so cool! You get to live in the same castle Lady Alanna lived in! And Lord Thom!" Mara giggled a little.

"Thats not fair," she said, "You know so much about me. What about you?" The girl blushed.

"Sorry. My mother taught me to avoid questions like that." Mara was starting to suspect who this was, but the girl answered her question anyway. "My names Cyra Crow."

"Your mother is Alianne?" Mara exclaimed, startled, "That means you're related to the Lioness! Mithros, what I wouldn't give for that!" Cyra giggled.

"It's not as wonderful as you think. Every time we see each other, she comments on my height! Anyway, I was hoping to meet your sister, my grandmother said she's training here, too, and I wanna meet everyone before Lord Chip gets here!" Mara raised one eyebrow.

"Lord Chip?" Cyra had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Yeah. Hes like a chip off of Lord Wyldon's block, see?" Mara forced herself not to laugh, but instead assumed a rather stern face.

"Cyra, that's disrespectful. Anyway, my sister's room is next to mine, and there she is." Mara pointed to the two girls in front of the door, and Cyra raced over almost impossibly fast. Mara followed, wincing when her sister yelled for her, and stood there. "Yes, Jaslyn?" she asked patiently.

Jaslyn looked terrified. Mara suppressed a giggle. "Jaslyn, its fine, Cyra's friendly."

"Yep!" Cyra agreed happily. Jaslyn hurried over and hid behind Mara.

"Then why is-is she there?" Mara frowned at the Carthaki.

"You're right, that is strange. Excuse me, whats your name?" The Carthaki girl had blushed up until now, but at the question, she drew herself up to her (admittedly short) full height, and looked, if possible, more imperious.

"My name is Fazia Iliniat, of Conté." It was Mara's turn to look surprised.

"Your mother is... Kalasin of Conté, right?" she asked, a little hesitant. "Aren't you a princess over at your old home?" Fazia shrugged, the imperious air gone.

"Second born, so I'm not the heir. Besides, I don't like it there. Too much slavery. And my father was considering an arranged marriage."

Mara nodded slightly, then studied Fazia appraisingly.

She hadn't gotten a good look at the young princess earlier, but now that she did, she was envious. The girl had brushed out her long black curls, then put them in a neat plait, which swung down her back nicely. Her eyes were dark blue, intelligent, and had a calculating look to them, as if she herself was appraising Mara. Her skin was clearing Carthak, most likely inherited from her father, though the accent gave it away as well, of course. The pages uniform looked nice on her, not too big, but not too small, either. It hugged her sides, and didn't make her arms stiff. Mara looked self-consciously at her own uniform, which was a little to big, and blushed.

Cyra broke the silence.

"Uh, guys, Lord Ch- Glaisdan is coming," she told them quietly. The four girls immediately returned to their doors, just in time, as the Lord of Haryse strode through the halls. Mara quickly imitated the other pages, who bowed to him, and could see her sister fumbling a little with hers, being used to curtsying.

As Lord Glaisdan looked over the pages, Mara couldn't help noticing his gaze lingering longer on the girl pages then anyone else. After a minute, the training master cleared his throat. "Don't think you'll have an easy time this year. You will work hard. You'll work when you're tired, when you're ill, and when you think you can't possibly work anymore. You have one more day to laze. Your sponsor will show you around the palace and collect those things which the crown supplies to you. The day after that, we begin." His skinny finger wavered around a bit, then halted on Fazia.

_He certainly is not an attractive man, _Mara thought idly. The lord of Haryse was a tall, skinny man, with a lot of curly blond hair, and mean, bright green eyes. How he had ever married, was beyond her.

"State your name and where you hail from," the training master ordered, shaking Mara out of her thoughts.

"Fazia of Conté, my lord," the girl said, bowing. The gold hoops she wore glinted in the light. The boys began murmuring. Mara could hear,

"It's a _girl_."

"Carthaki, no less," another muttered.

"Who cares, they won't last!" one boy proclaimed scornfully. Mara glared at the boy in question. He was handsome, alright. He was athletic-looking, his skin tanned, and his hair a little long for a male's, but the sleek black horsetail looked good on his elegant frame, and his wide green eyes worked for him. Still, to her, he looked like a green-eyed weasel. A handsome weasel, but a weasel.

"Who will sponser her?" he asked shortly. After what seemed like forever, but in truth was only a few minutes, a boy stepped out. He was clearly of the Conté line, with lightly tanned skin, a sturdy figure, and black hair. Mara couldn't make out his eye color, but his nose was clearly his mothers. He was very nice looking. Mara whistled softly.

"I will, my lord," he said politely, "Shes my cousin." Lord Glaisdan nodded.

"Very well, Jacob of Conté." Mara watched the boy walk over to his cousin, and couldn't help a small giggle as the girl looked up at the taller, second year page, and hissed,

"You don't fool me!" The boy seemed taken aback at this, and looked away quickly, frowning. The training master pointed to a short, plump, blond boy with freckles, who gulped.

"Anders of Meron, my lord." _He must have some Scanran ancsestor, _Mara thought idly. Anders was taken by Jameson of Disart. A brown-haired, skinny lad with piercing yellow eyes by the name of Seamus of Queenscove was taken by Lord Glaisdan's own son, Jackson of Haryse, a scrawny lad with the same dishwater blond hair and green eyes as his father. _A pride and joy for his father, no doubt, _Mara thought sarcastically. A few more pages were sponsored, then the hand landed on Cyra. He scowled, then spoke.

"State your name and your holding."

"Cyra Crow, of Pirate's Swoop, m'lord," she spoke mockingly, and gave him a half bow, smirking.

"Who will sponsor her?" Lord Glaisdan asked, though it was clear he would rather ask, _Who will escort her home? _There was a rather long pause, then a boy moved the front. He sighed dramatically.

"Well, if no one else, I suppose I must be rash... again, and fulfill my duty as a knight and fellow page. I will, my lord." Lord Glaisdan looked ready to thrash the boy. Tightly, he said,

"I think, perhaps this is not the best of matchs, Nilo of Queenscove. You would do better to practice your staff patterns, or perhaps curbing your tongue. And you are only a first year. If you are trying to uphold some tradition in your family... you are doing poorly."

"I know, m'lord, but I am the only volunteer..." Nilo said, with a gleam in his piercing green eyes, and Mara got a good look at him. He was tall, and gangly. _Older than a page, _she decided, _Not as much as his father- Sir Nealan, but enough. He's got to be at least the age of a second year page. He would make a good sponsor. _Obviously the other boys agreed, as noone else volunteered. Lord Glaisdan sighed.

"Very well. No shenanigans, page Nilo. I will not tolerate them." The boy walked over jauntily to Cyra, and Mara hid a smirk as she heard their exchanged whispers.

"He's so silly-"

"Got a nickname for him yet? My father called Lord Wyldon the Stump."

"Hehe. I call him Lord Chip, cause he's a chip off Lord Wyldon's block, see?"

"Nice, needs some work. You'll do nicely."

"State your name and the name of your holding." The training master barked at Jaslyn, looking strained. Mara heard a murmur behind her,

"Too skinny!"

"That one won't last a day." Jaslyn apparently heard, because Mara saw her face harden.

"Jaslyn of Trebond, my lord." Mara sighed quietly as Jaslyn glared at Lord Glaisdan, any thoughts of respect seemingly forgotten. The training master looked annoyed.

"Who will sponsor her?" he asked. After a few minutes, a skinny, pale lad, with blond hair and glasses stepped forwards. Mara sighed with relief as she recognized her cousin Roger, from her aunt Sarra of Meron.

"I-I will, m'lord," Roger said graciously, for once his nose not in a book. Mara thought that must be some sort of miracle. Lord Glaisdan sniffed, then sighed.

"Very well, Roger of Meron." Roger walked over to Jaslyn, who looked up at her taller cousin, relief plain on her pretty features. Finally, it was on to Mara. She gulped, nervous, and dipped her head in a bow.

"Mara of Trebond, my lord." she murmured, looking down. She took a deep breath, and tried to relax.

"Who will sponser her?" There was silence for such a long time, Lord Glaisdan began tapping his foot in impatience.

"No new page can go without a sponsor. Who will sponsor her?" he repeated, more insistently. Mara looked down, guiltily. After a moment, a tall boy stepped out of the crowd. The first thing Mara noticed about him was his height. He was the same age as her, or only a year older, it seemed, but towered above most of the boys at five foot six. He had tanned skin, brown hair he kept neatly trimmed, and hazel/blue eyes. Mara liked him instantly.

"I will, my lord." Lord Glaisdan hesitated, then seemed to be unable to think of a good excuse to keep the boy from sponsoring her.

"Very well, Ansil of Masbolle." Ansil bowed, and walked over to Mara, who looked up at him, keeping her face clear of any emotion. She didn't want to make a bad impression. He cocked an eyebrow at her, then grinned. Lord Glaisdan headed off, and the pages followed him.

"C'mon, Mara," Ansil told her lightly, "Lets get to dinner." Mara nodded, and followed him to the mess hall, thinking, _Maybe... maybe this won't be so bad._


	6. Pick and Choose

AN: Wow, its been a while since I updated, huh? Yes, I see you, angry mob. Go away. I write on an irregular schedule. The only thing that basically woke me up and reminded me of my duties was that lovely review I got!

Moragthepiper, this is for you! (No, seriously. That question about the foreigners really helped me think of this.)

The problem with this story is its four girls, so I have to think of subplots for all four, plus the basic plot that they follow throughout the stories. I won't tell you now- but I've got the plotline already. It's a doozy!

Oh, and yeah, Ansil is Kel and Dom's son. Nice kid- you'll learn to hate him soon. Mwahaha. Mwahaha. MWAHAHAAAAAAAA!

Mad rampage over.

DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognize, probably not mine. And this quote is from POTS:

"To Mithros, god of warriors and of truth, and to the Great Mother Goddess, we give thanks for their bounty,"

* * *

**Cyra of Pirates Swoop**

As Cyra walked through the hall's after Nilo, who was tall and fast enough so she didn't have to stay as slow as she normally was, she couldn't help noticing the looks directed her way. Was it her looks? She knew she looked a bit odd, she'd always been treated as such back home by other nobles children, what with inheriting most of her Da's looks, besides her hair, though that was strange in on itself. Or maybe it was her mother? No doubt people here had heard of her mother being the kingdom's spymaster, and they thought she was here to spy on them. Actually, Cyra did think that was probably a very good guess. That, and her crow abilities, and her relations to important people. _I'll show them, _she thought stubbornly, _Anyone can be a knight. Even a half crow girl from the Copper Isles._ Feeling cheerful from her thoughts, she hurried to get to the mess hall, since she'd already memorized the halls she'd been through. She'd been shown the mess hall yesterday, so she knew where it was. She giggled at Nilo's surprised cry, "Hey! Wait up!" but slowed down, for his sake. He came up, grinning slightly.

"C'mon, I'm hungry," she said casually, turning and walking.

"How'd you run that fast?" Nilo asked, sounding awed. Cyra smirked.

"Why, my dear page, I am half crow. That was like a small walk to me." She tweaked his nose, and hurried to the doors, almost running into a noble on the way there. She bowed hastily. "Sorry, milord," she said quickly, and as she hurried along, she swore she heard the man say in a disgusted tone,

"Things certainly have taken a downfall since that _woman _Keladry of Mindelan got her shield." Cyra's eyes narrowed. For a moment, she contemplated turning round, and telling that stuffy lord just how important the changes were. No. That wouldn't solve issues, it might make them worse. Still... it was tempting. Cyra's decision was made for her when Nilo murmured into her ear,

"Don't mind Lord Brock. He's one of those conservatives. Even with Keladry of Mindelan getting her shield, they're still around. And, well... they're not happy with foreigners coming to train. Usually they're busy squawking about the Lionesses latest antics, but they've started to point fingers at... you an' Fazia..." he mumbled these last few words. Cyra frowned, but didn't push it. He was obviously scared she'd get angry. When she seemed to be perfectly fine, he relaxed. "Anyway, classes are starting tomorrow and such. Tonight's our last night to relax and stuff. Why don't we hang out? We can ask the other pages. It'll be fun." Cyra shook her head, smiling.

"I gotta weigh my things," she said apologetically, "One condition of Mother's was that I weigh my things myself." Nilo looked confused, and she giggled.

"I'm half crow, Nilo. I'm a lot stronger than you'd expect. I brought a trunk of lead, and the training things I used before, from home, to help balance it out a little." Nilo rolled his eyes after a moment.

"Yeah. Sure." Cyra sighed- did no one believe her? "Prove it."

"How?" Cyra demanded, "I have no staff. I don't want to run now. And lifting you would be boring. C'mon, I'll show you tomorrow." She sprinted to the mess hall, and Nilo ran to catch up.

_And he still doubt's_ me? she thought crossly, as they went to get food. Cyra sighed slightly at the food, grabbing the chili (and ignoring Nilo's warning that it was spicy), an herb-encrusted roll, and a bowl of steaming saffron rice, then got a cup and utensils and went to sit. At home, the food was so much more flavorful. According to her mother, it had taken Ali years to become accustomed to Copper Isles fare. Still, her mother ate far more yogurt and bread then most natives. Cyra wouldn't call her mother fat, though, since she was always active. Still, Cyra couldn't help rolling her eyes at the thought of her mother eating this stuff.

Cyra and Nilo walked around, looking for a place to sit. Most tables were full, and others boys were spreading apart so that there wasn't room, and smirking. Finally, Cyra's eyes landed on a table, mostly empty but for six other pages- the three girls, and their sponsors. She headed over. Nilo opened his mouth, seemingly about to argue, then seemed to think better of it, and followed her over.

Four heads looked up as Cyra and Nilo slid on the bench, setting their food in front of them. Cyra couldn't help noting that neither Roger of Meron nor Jaslyn of Trebond would look at her, busy with staring at their laps, waiting for the training master to arrive. _So, its pick on foreigners day, huh? _she thought bitterly, _Well, I'll show them. I'll show them all. _She was interrupted from these thoughts, when she heard a small voice.

"Hello." Cyra glanced around, then realized it had come from Mara. Mara had a blank face on. _Yamani blank, _Cyra thought wryly, _Mother told me about them. The blasted people are practically spy-proof. Mother had to train those spy's for longer then I've been alive before she thought they were ready to spy on the Yamani's. I'm so glad I'm not a spy. _Mara certainly did take after that lady knight Keladry. Cyra could tell she would make a formidable foe. She herself hid her emotions through exaggerated others. She had learned much from her mother.

"Hello, dear Mara," she said dramatically, clasping a hand to her heart in a Player's flourish. "Oh! How humbling to ones character it is to meet such a famed young lady." Jaslyn and Roger laughed, albeit a bit uneasily at this, and the others joined in after a moment, other then Mara (no surprise, though she did smile a bit), and... Ansil. Cyra narrowed her eyes at him momentarily, then assumed a sad expression. "You mock me, a young girl fresh out of the Copper Isle's for my hero worship? Tis a cruel world, indeed." Nilo chuckled slightly, and then the doors opened. Several boys, (and Jaslyn), glanced at the door, and found the training master. Lord Glaisdan walked in, and talk ceased abruptly. The training master went to his table, and one of the servants brought him some food.

"To Mithros, god of warriors and of truth, and to the Great Mother Goddess, we give thanks for their bounty."

"We give thanks and praise," the pages replied. Cyra couldn't help stumbling over it a bit, and she noticed Fazia did so as well. Roger shot them a dirty look, and Fazia glared back. Cyra frowned.

"We ask Mithro's to guide us in these dark times, when enemy's wear masks, and judgement is clouded. May the veil be lifted from our eyes, and our judgement cleared. We ask this of Mithros, god of the Sun. So Mote it be."

"So Mote it be," the pages repeated, again, the same pages wavering. Cyra blushed slightly. Well, they didn't do this at meals in the Copper Isles- and she'd gone to Carthak once. She knew they gave thanks to the Graveyard Hag first, not Mithros. She was also angry. Lord Glaisdan was clearly stating that she and Fazia were enemies, and that they didn't deserve to be there. She couldn't help noticing the dirty looks many boys gave the girls, particuarly her. She supposed Fazia didn't attract as much anger as her.

However, Cyra showed none of the emotions that she felt. Instead, she made a face, poking at the chili, as pages began to eat. The only ones with any manners at the table were Fazia and Jacob, who both ate neatly, and maybe Roger of Meron. Mara was picking at her food. All four were quiet. Nilo, Ansil, and Jaslyn, however, were eating messily, and having an animated discussion. Cyra decided that she might as well draw the others into the conversation.

"Yuck," she said, pretending to fake gag after she swallowed a mouthful of chili. "This is _hot _to you people?" Nilo rolled his eyes.

"Yes, oh fiery one," he said, "That liquified embers you turn your nose up is _hot _to us normal folks. _We _weren't raised eating raw hallepeno peppers like candy." Cyra crossed her arms, and pouted, her lower lip sticking out.

"That was one time," she muttered, though she wasn't really upset, "My mother thought I was going to breath fire." Ansil glanced at her, and snorted, clearly finding the idea that she could handle that ridiculous. Jaslyn and Jacob were also giggling, though Mara and Fazia simply stuck to small smiles. Cyra noted with a small mental frown, that Roger was the only one who didn't join in on the laughter. "You mock me, fellow pages?" she inquired, making her eyes big and tearful. "I'm only stating the truth." As quick as a wink she ate, finishing the food, so only the roll left. However, she continued to sit there while the other pages finished eating, conversing with ease with them, and from time to time, ripping a s bit of the roll and popping it in her mouth. Plenty was still left by the time dinner ended, and she went with her friends to give their tray's to the kitchen staff. Then she bowed, over exaggerated, to the others. "Farewell, dear friends," she said in a loud voice, "May your journey's be fun." Then she skipped away.

It took her a minimal amount of time to get to her rooms. She stuck the roll in her mouth, then changed to a crow, her cloths dropping to the floor as the girl-turned crow flew out. It didn't take her long to meet the crows here. She struck up a bit of a friendship with them. The roll she had brought helped this greatly. Finally, she had to go. She wished them a good night, and they bid farewell, then flew off. Cyra flew off, heading for her room. She got there soon, and dressed in her nightshirt once she changed back. Then she crawled into bed, blew out the candle, and fell asleep.


	7. Morning Classes

AN: Hello, all!

Wow, is it that time again?

I did not know.

Well, I realized you might've been confused by last chapter, so I'm explaining. The first, like, four chapters have names, and after that, the only way you know whose perspective its in, is from the name at the top, in bold, centered. Easy, no?

Now, to more pressing matters. I humbly apologize for being so late, my computer was being a dummy and took days to work, and then I forgot. Then I was busy with other stuff. Then my computer restarted. Then when I came back on, I was logged out. Then I forgot.

I know, I'm an idiot. Right now, I'm actually supposed to be doing... I dunno, something else. But see, I loved you guys enough to finish what I already wrote!

I'm so generous.

In response to my lovely reviews (remember, folks, stories don't come cheap. Reviews pay the bills around here.), here:

GinnyStar:

I'm glad you like them! They're not intended for readers to understand, honestly, I thought up the characters when I was on the computer, and I often forget small details, so I made bios for them to remind myself, including different random pieces that would help me. I posted them as a treat!

Guest, Ziva10: Aw, thanks. I'm glad someone else likes my story. Never fear, I'm working on it. And another piece, but that's a different genre... also, guys, if you post under 'guest' in the future, can you please write some noteworthy username in the review or something so I know who to address when I write these letters? Thanks!

Fire out!

* * *

**Fazia of Conté**

Fazia woke up early, long before the bell rang. She was used to getting up early so that she could go through strengthening exercises that a visiting Shang had taught her last year when she asked for advice, so the early mornings didn't bother her. Today, however, she didn't go through all of them that she usually did, because she would be going through plenty of physical training later, and she didn't want to strain her muscles too much. If she wasn't feeling too tired, though, she would do her evening ones later. Just because she was training as a knight was no excuse to slack. Mama always said a moment spent wasted was a chance for the Graveyard Hag to interfere with her life. Fazia had no interest in starting something like the catastrophe that her great-uncle caused when he ceased worshiping the Graveyard Hag. It had taken years and years to recover from the Goddesses fury. Fazia had vague memories of being taken to see the rebuilding of some buildings, and when she was five her nursery had been moved.

Fazia was interrupted from her exercises by a furious banging on the door. Confused, Fazia pulled on her dressing gown, which was a dark plum color, and opened the door cautiously.

She came face to face with Cyra, who was in a night shift, and looked furious and tired. Fazia sighed in relief, then realized Cyra must have heard her. How could she have heard her? Fazia wasn't that loud...

"What in all the Gods name possessed you?!" Cyra almost shrieked, and Fazia was startled by the smaller girls anger. "To be up and noisy so early in the morning!"

Several heads peeped out, and Fazia could hear the annoyed "Shhh!" of multiple pages. Then the doors shut. Cyra sighed, exasperated, and Fazia tugged her in, shutting the door.

"How'd you hear me?" Fazia whispered, "I was being so quiet!" Cyra blushed slightly, and shrugged.

"I... just did." Fazia was curious about why she wouldn't elaborate, but changed tactics.

"Don't you exercise in the morning?" she inquired, "You don't want to be treated like a weakling." Cyra shook her head.

"I gotta go get dressed," she said, seeming a bit reluctant. "But I'll join you tomorrow, if you want." Fazia nodded, happy to have someone to do it with her. "I'll see you at breakfast." Cyra left, and Fazia resumed her exercises.

By the time Fazia was dressed, the bell was ringing, and she could hear boys leaving their rooms. She put on a pair of gold stud earrings and her locket, then braided her hair down her back and left for breakfast. Jacob had agreed to meet her there.

Fazia didn't like Jacob. She doubted he liked the idea of foreigners training in Tortall. After all, he was the prince. And having the princess from Carthak there... was probably even worse. Fazia didn't like being princess though. Too many people held her in awe, or befriended her only to gain status and favors. She was guarded everywhere she went, and worst of all was the slavery. Since Daine went to Carthak, there were less slaves, and they were treated a little better, by some at least, but in Fazias eyes it was wrong. It was like saying they couldn't be free and equal, like commoners and nobles, but since they got a few privileges, they ought to be grateful for the 'compensation'. And her mother was never very happy. Fazia knew Kalasin had an arranged marriage, and while her mother had learned to live with Carthak and Kaddar, she wasn't happy. And that didn't mean that every marriage ended happily. Fazia was scared that the same thing would happen to her. In her eyes, it was just an added benefit that the kingdom Papa had considered a marriage with found the idea of a woman learning the fighting arts scandalous, and withdrew at once.

Fazia headed to breakfast.

Once she got her tray of steaming porridge studded with fresh fruit and cinnamon, spicy sausages, a roll fresh from the oven, and fruit, she went to the table she'd sat at the night before. Not surprisingly, the same group was there. Jaslyn smiled at her, and Fazia smiled back, just a bit. She had a feeling the other girl felt rather uncomfortable with her presence. Oh well. Mama said not everyone would be open to the idea. She concentrated on her breakfast. Once the training master gave the blessing, she ate her breakfast quietly, trying not to laugh at certain pages antic's, and rolling her eyes at other's sloppiness. After breakfast, they headed to their first class. Reading and writing. After satisfying her grouchy teacher that she could, in fact, read and write rather well, he assigned her a very long poem to read and copy down. Fazia noted with interest that Cyra, Mara, and Jaslyn were also assigned the same poem, though most of the boys got shorter ones. She sighed, and started working. She had only gotten a bit done when it was time for the next class. Mathematics. Unfortunately, math's had never been Fazia's strong suit. She found herself saddled with a lot of work to do. For the next day.

Fazia was walking to her next class, history, when a voice spoke next to her ear.

"Hey." She screamed, startled, and whirled round. Cyra was down the hall, grinning impishly at her. Fazia sighed, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"What do you want, Cyra?" she asked wearily, "We've got class and we're about to be late." Cyra shrugged.

"Nothing. I was just wondering... could you help me with the poem tonight after dinner? It's not really my strong suit." Fazia nodded, glad to have a buddy.

"Sure. I've read this poem before anyway. It'll be easy to do. Now, come on before we're late. I heard the new history teacher is really strict."

Fazia had been looking forwards to meeting Sir Myle's, the Lionesses adopted father, and Cyra's great-grandfather. It had been a disappointment to find that, getting in on his years, the aging knight had declined the offer to come teach this year, deciding instead to just stay in court to meet the new pages. At least the new teacher was one equally interesting. Duke Gareth | was the prime minister to the previous king, who had died soon after his wife. Some said it was a suicide. Either way, he had declined taking on the role again, but when Sir Myle's stepped down from role of teaching history to the youngsters, he accepted the offer. His history would hopefully be interesting. Fazia knew he had been in charge of the peace delegation to her home around the time that the Graveyard Hag struck. She worried that he would believe her to hold a grudge against him for that, like some of her home's people, who had held to the idea that it was Tortall's fault, not their previous emperors, that she had destroyed so much. Many had tried to start a war this past summer, in fact. Fazia was highly grateful that no slaves had taken part in this, for their punishments no doubt would have been much more severe and brutal.

Once Fazia got to class, she took her seat. This time she was sitting next to Roger of Meron, and Cyra and Ansil were behind her. Fortunately, she got there just in time. Duke Gareth was writing on the board. After a minute, he turned around, facing them.

"It's good to see young faces again," he said. "I haven't seen this many since my son decided he and Cythera needed a second honeymoon and I had some involuntary quality time with the grandchildren," he added dryly. "At least you're... almost all, punctual." He looked pointedly at Jaslyn, who had come in the middle of him speaking with a quiet apology. She ducked her head, face red, as some boys snickered. Duke Gareth just sighed. "Please see me after class, Jaslyn. Moving on. This year, we will be learning about the various wars fought over land. Land, as we know, is very important, but certain parts of it are more important than others. If it were not for the Old King, or his Majesty king Jasson the first, we would not have as much land as we do today. With more land, more food can be grown to sustain the populace, and the kingdom can grow..."

Duke Gareth, Fazia decided, was very stiff. He spent the entire class lecturing, and a few pages fell asleep and would no doubt receive punishment work for that. On the contrary, Fazia found the subject fascinating, and greatly enjoyed listening to him speak of the various wars the land had encountered-less since king Jonathon's coronation, and when he received the dominion jewel, a greatly prized magical gem, from the kings champion, but still many, including the misnamed Immortals war. Her classmate Roger of Meron didn't think so, and he had fallen asleep. She hadn't appreciated his drooling on the desk. A disgrace.

Next was Deportment. An interesting class, at least for Fazia. It was important to learn proper behavior for nobles of their stature. Most of the pages clearly disliked this class, however. Fazia couldn't tell what Mara thought of it, because she only scowled once. The rest of the time, she had a straight face on. Cyra was just grinning. Fazia suspected she wasn't really that enthusiastic about the class, and that she was faking it.

A few more classes, and a pile of homework later, they finally reached lunch. To say Fazia was relieved was an understatement. She had managed to duck her older cousin for most of the morning, but just as she left her last indoor class for the morning-learning of the immortals and various animals in the world-he cornered her, insistent. This meant that going to lunch, she was led glumly by her sponsor. Well, led to her room, where she washed up, taken her locket off for the classes after lunch, and pinned up her braid, before going to lunch.

Fazia watched Jacob trudge along, looking a little slumped and like he was regretting this already. She was a little sorry that she'd been so rude to him-he was her cousin, after all, and he actually was pretty nice. She still didn't like him, though. With a small sigh, Fazia sped up a little. When Jacob looked at her inquisitively, Fazia gave him a small, hesitant smile. After what seemed like eons, Jacob smiled back. The two pages both walked a little more briskly after that, in sync, and amiable silence between them.

It was a nice walk.


End file.
